


Beginner's Guide

by ShadowBiscuit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Sam, Claiming, Desperation, Dirty Dean, Dirty Talk, Hair-pulling, M/M, Possessive Dean, Puppy Play, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Teasing, Top Dean, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-04 23:31:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5352473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowBiscuit/pseuds/ShadowBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't everyday one found out their big brother was in love with them. Yep. Certainly not a common occurrence. So when Sam learned the truth that has been hiding in plain sight for all these years, he ignored it, like a good, respectful little brother and hunter, as there was no need to complicate things between the two of them.<br/>He paid it no mind...at first.<br/>How was he supposed to know that he'd develop an undeniable curiosity along the way? A curiosity concerning Dean's reactions, with questions such as "How far can I go?" floating around in his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From Denial To Acceptance

 

Every family has their own uncomfortable, awkward little moments. Catching your parents making out as if they were teenagers. Lying about finishing your homework and then getting busted. An awkward conversation about sex-ed at the dinner table.

Realizing your big brother is in love with you.

One out of four has happened to Sam Winchester, and honestly, he wasn’t quite sure how to react. What was one supposed to do in a situation like this, anyway?

He and Dean didn’t have a relationship you’d call normal, even they knew that. People have pointed it out many times before, just how codependent of each other they were, how unhealthy and borderline masochistic their brotherly love was. They kept dying and coming back, all for each other, and if that wouldn’t have been enough, they were hunters. A hunter’s life was already a mess, with imminent death constantly looming over them and breathing down their necks, so that already made them an interesting pair. Two brothers against the world. Two brothers who were ready to go to impossible lengths to save the world, but would also ruin it and watch it perish in a heartbeat if it meant it would save the other, willing to sacrifice everything they worked for because they simply couldn’t live without the other.

Well, at least that was true for Dean.

They weren’t the same. No matter how close they were, Sam and Dean still weren’t the same person, didn’t have the same dreams and expectations, same needs. Sam wanted to have a normal life, has been craving for that ever since he realized that going from motel to motel wasn’t a real way to live. He fought alongside Dean because that’s what he was supposed to do, because if maybe he cleaned this world up long enough, well enough, then he’d get a chance at happiness. Real happiness, one that you’d only experience with a loved one, with someone who understands but isn’t burdened by this life. He tried so hard to make that dream come true, turn the fantasy into reality, that he abandoned his brother for a woman. Then, when that didn’t work out, because why would anything ever go the way Sam wanted, he tried to kill himself. Well, no, he didn’t. He didn’t know he would end up dying when he started the Trials, but that didn’t mean anything. As soon as Dean told him what would happen, in that church, Sam knew he didn’t mind. Dying for the greater good, to seal the Gates of Hell shut forever—who wouldn’t jump at an opportunity like that? What decent hunter would back out and let hundreds of innocents perish just so they could continue living?

He was ready. He was fine with leaving this wretched place behind. But Dean wasn’t. They both loved each other, in their own ways, but Sam soon had to realize that his brother’s love was more selfish than his. He couldn’t live without Sam, didn’t want to be alone. That made him angry, because they were supposed to be hunters and think of others before themselves. But no, Dean didn’t care; he needed his little brother with him, his dependence much stronger than Sam’s. Dean Winchester was one great big hypocrite, would die and leave Sam behind as long as it meant that he wouldn’t be left alone in this world, refused to be alone, even if that meant dragging the other back from the dead, from the verge of death, sacrificing the lives of those they were supposed to save just so he could keep his little brother. Making deals with angels and demons, dying and killing, all just so they could stay together, always and forever, so he wouldn’t have to face this place, try to survive by himself.

Sam believed that to be true for so long, but then one day, everything changed.

It was like his eyes just opened. The ridiculous thing was that all it took was one little comment from a demon. “He won’t shoot—he’s way too in love with you to risk losing you.” That’s what it said when Sam shouted at his brother to shoot the damn thing, while it had a knife pressed against his throat, keeping him hostage. Dean had an unreadable expression on his face, and just as the demon predicted, he didn’t shoot. At first. As soon as it got too cocky, the man squeezed off three shots, two hitting the demon in its chest and one in its face, giving Sam the opportunity the wrestle the knife from its hand and sink it in its chest, killing it. And at first, he didn’t think much of it. They both ignored what the demon said, as it’s not like it was the first time someone had taunted them, and just moved on.

But…it kept bothering him. Nudging the back of his mind, reminding him it was there, the words swimming temptingly in his head whenever he looked at Dean. Sure, he loved Sam, but it wasn’t the romantic sort of love. “In love with you.” What a joke.

He didn’t think about it for the longest time, but now he was unconsciously becoming more aware of the looks Dean gave him. And maybe it was just him, just his brain playing tricks on him because of that stupid shit the demon said, but he was noticing things. Dean’s eyes lingering on him for a bit too long, watching him when he thought he wasn’t looking; Dean’s face brightening when Sam smiled or laughed, the man all grins himself; Dean’s fingers almost purposely brushing against his when he gave him a beer, hand staying on his shoulder for longer than necessary after a casual pat. He was noticing all of these small things that he never paid attention to before, and they were making Sam doubt himself. Because what if? It was ridiculous, was a waste of time even considering it, but what if Dean really loved him more than he expected?

What if it wasn’t selfishness but desperation, not hypocrisy but crazy longing, not the fear of being alone but being without Sam?

He thought about just asking Dean, but even if it were true, he would have denied it. And if it wasn’t, Sam would feel like a total idiot afterward. So he stayed silent instead, keeping an eye out for any strange behavior from his brother, and after two weeks, he couldn’t take the pressure anymore and decided to settle this once and for all. He couldn’t live like this, constantly wondering if his own brother was harboring any forbidden feelings toward him. It was driving him mad, even getting to the point where Sam could barely sleep at night, mind wandering and spinning, going in circles, and when he did actually manage to fall asleep, nightmares took over his head and imagination, concocting scenarios that left him waking in cold sweat and feeling pretty traumatized.

In order to put an end to this, he needed to find a solid proof. Something undeniable, something that would convince Sam of either truths, and since he has established that asking his brother about it was not going to happen, he had no choice but to take matters in his own hand. He chose a Sunday night for it. They were in a motel, done with a hunt, ready to hit the hay, and it was his turn to take a shower. Usually, they always brought their clothes with themselves into the bathroom, but this time Sam left it outside, then after a long moment of contemplation and reluctance, marched out of the steamy room with only a towel wrapped around his hips, lying about how he left his fresh clothes in the duffel. Dean just rolled his eyes and didn’t seem too bothered, made a stupid comment about how Sam just wanted to “show off your pecks, you closet nudist”. But his eyes still lingered on Sam’s long legs and his back, even on his ass, though not like that was anything new, because he had noticed his brother doing that quite often. A few intense stares wasn’t what he was looking for, so after he went back into the bathroom and put his clothes on, he pretended to go to sleep, told Dean that he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer and flopped into the bed while his brother prepared for his own shower; however as soon as he heard the water running, Sam crawled out of the bed and snuck over to the door. Pressing his ear against the wooden surface, he listened closely while reminding himself that he was not a creep, was only trying to find out if his and his brother’s relationship was even more fucked up than he thought, and it wasn’t long before he began hearing the sounds. The quiet, muffled groans.

They weren’t clear, were obviously difficult to hear with the shower going and the door blocking the sounds, but Sam still strained his ear and managed to pick up a few moans and curses. He felt his face flush, knew what his brother was doing and felt incredibly dirty and guilty for listening in, knew that this experience would probably leave him scarred if all of this turned out to be a huge misunderstanding. But after a while, he had to realize that all his suspicions were correct, because amongst the groans were words. Well, one word, repeated over and over again, especially by the end, and Sam was so shocked that he nearly forgot that he was supposed to be sleeping and barely managed to dive back under his blanket before Dean exited the bathroom.

He couldn’t sleep anything that night, mind too haunted by the memory of his big brother moaning his name while jerking off in the shower.

After that, life went back to normal. Sam didn’t pay close attention to his brother’s behavior anymore because now he knew the truth, knew that the demon’s foul words were correct, so he didn’t need any more proof. And sure, at first he was shocked. Very much so, even disgusted a bit, since come on, they were brothers. But they weren’t normal, might have been the world’s most extraordinary and fucked up siblings, living a life that would send even the bravest of them all running in fear for their mental health. So, honestly, he couldn’t blame Dean. He just couldn’t hate him for the way he felt, not even if he tried. It was unnerving, that much was true, now that he was aware what the stares and the idle touches secretly meant, but Sam deiced to ignore them all. He had no idea how long this has been going on, but since Dean had never made a move on him or acted on any of his feelings, Sam was positive their relationship didn’t need to change just because he figured out his brother’s dirty little secret. Nothing had to change, and nothing would as long as he forgot all about his discovery.

He was just going to ignore it all and go back to the way they always were, going to pretend that everything was fine and shove this new, disturbing knowledge to the very back of his mind, bury it deep and never take it out again, put it next to all the crap he never thought or spoke of. This wouldn’t be the first time he had to erase his own memory like this, so it shouldn’t be too hard this time either, right?

 


	2. Curiosity

 

Curiosity killed the cat, and it was also doing some pretty interesting things to Sam.

He and Dean continued hunting as if nothing happened, nothing changed. And, well, that was true for his brother, but not for him. He did swear to himself that he wouldn’t act any different from before, since if Dean didn’t let his feelings come between them and ruin their relationship as brothers, then Sam could manage to do so as well. He wasn’t going to be the one to destroy what they had. So for the first few days, he didn’t let them get to him. The smiles which he previously thought of as casual but now knew meant more, the little things like Dean making him breakfast and handing him a beer even though he never asked for one, the gentleness he cleaned and stitched Sam’s wounds up—he tried his best not to overanalyze each and every little action, and for a while, it worked.

But he wouldn’t have been Sam Winchester if he could’ve resolved his problems that easily.

It got worse. Instead of forgetting about it, instead of letting time wash away his uneasiness, it only made him curious about a number of things. For example, how could Dean keep this from him? Sam should’ve realized it much sooner, but somehow, his brother was really good at hiding his feelings. Also, Dean had seen him naked quite a few times already, but never pounced. Actually, he never reacted appropriately, not in a way someone who was in love with their little brother would. He stayed the same no matter what, and that made Sam wonder what it’d take. What would it take for Dean to show some sort of reaction? For him to let go of his façade and reveal what he’s been hiding beneath, to let Sam get a peek at his brother’s reality. Because apparently, all this time he was only seeing a part of Dean, only the surface. The very tip of the iceberg. He knew that the other hunter had secrets, both of them had many of those, but this was different. This was a whole other side, there was a different person in his brother, another version of him that Sam has never seen, was never allowed to lay eyes on, but now that he knew of its existence, he really wanted to catch a glimpse of it.

He shouldn’t. He knew that much. But continuing to ignore it all proved to be quite impossible when all he could think of was Dean. What did he like in Sam? And since when? He of all people should’ve known how fucked up Sam was, the kind of freak he could become, so loving him should’ve been hard. And what about all those other girls? The ones Dean picked up and those that Sam stayed with. Was his brother ever jealous? Or did he never care? There were so many questions swirling around in his head, keeping him from sleeping and concentrating on cases, Sam many times finding himself spacing out on his brother when he was supposed to be researching on his laptop.

Fortunately, though, Dean never noticed the change in his behavior. Either that, or he did but never showed any signs of it. He rarely caught the other staring, only raising his eyebrows at him when he did, after which Sam stopped, before going back to sneaking a few glances at his brother some minutes later. The need to know was slowly eating away at him, turning him all fidgety and on edge, the unanswered questions building up and prodding at him every chance they got, until he was tempted to just confront his brother. But he couldn’t possibly do that. Who knew how Dean would react? Knowing him, he’d deny everything, laugh in Sam’s face for such a ridiculous accusation, maybe even humiliate and tease him for thinking Dean could ever be in love with him. “Sure, you’ve got a pretty face, but come on. Me, falling for you? That’s wishful thinking right there” is what he’d say before waving Sam away. He was good at lying, to both himself and others, at being in denial and sticking to his story even when the proof was staring him right in the face, even after he’s been caught red handed. And since this way gay incest they’d be talking about here, he would keep denying it until he’s got maybe even himself convinced that he had no feelings of such nature toward Sam.

That made him wonder what Dean’s reaction was when he first realized that he didn’t think of Sam as his little brother anymore. Was he angry at himself? Maybe felt an indescribable amount of guilt? If he still knew his brother the way he thought he did, then he could imagine Dean blaming himself for his feelings, hating himself for them. Trying to ignore them like Sam did, telling himself that they weren’t real feelings, that they would go away in time, because they were brothers and it was wrong, so wrong. Maybe that’s why he was such a ladies’ man, such a playboy. Maybe Sam was the reason for all the women Dean picked up at bars and diners, the one-night stands only a necessity to forget about his little brother, that realization making Sam cringe, because the older hunter has been doing that ever since he was eighteen, and so that would mean that all these years, he’s been…

Oh god, Sam was going to be sick.

How could he be so blind? Dean must have been hurting so much, all because of him, and great, now he was feeling guilty. Count on the Winchester family to feel responsible for everything that’s going wrong, even if it isn’t their fault. But this was his fault, at least a bit. He should have known. He wasn’t sure how, but he just should have; should’ve noticed the look in his brother’s eyes years ago. How pathetic was it, having to need a filthy demon’s jeering words in order to finally open his eyes and become aware of the fact that his own brother loved him? Stupid. Sam was so fucking stupid and oblivious, and he would have deserved Dean’s hate instead, not love.

Anyway, he couldn’t change the past now. He could, however, do something with the future, but what? Telling Dean that he knew was out of the question, and aside from that, there really wasn’t anything else he could’ve done. There was nothing, aside from good old curiosity, and while he fought it, didn’t want to succumb to something so selfish, he was only human.

So that is exactly why he was here now, on his hands and knees, looking through the papers he has scattered across the floor on purpose. In all honesty, he felt ridiculous. And like a complete idiot, but whatever, because he couldn’t just jump to his feet anymore. Because he had a plan.

Okay, so it was a stupid plan. Sam was willing to admit that. But Dean was too good at hiding things, and he wanted to ruffle his feathers a bit, get under his skin. Or something. He knew it was pretty cruel, as he was sure that his brother was already having a hard time as is, but damn it, he wanted to know. Any reaction would be good, he didn’t care, but he wanted to see more of this new Dean, this secret side of his brother he knew nothing of.

Kneeling in a pile of research papers and books might not have been one of his brightest ideas, but hey, he wasn’t a master in the art of teasing yet, so a few failures were bound to happen.

“What are you doing?” He heard his brother’s voice from behind, and Sam turned around, standing on his knees while flashing a small smile at Dean. Alright, time to put his acting skills to use.

“Looking for something on ‘mogroths’. There have been many sightings, and I wanna know if the Men of Letters have anything on them,” he lied like a faucet, before going back to his previous position and trying not to let the shame of what he was doing deter him. Sure, he was pretty much presenting his ass to his brother, and it was making him think all sorts of debauching and hateful things about himself, but what better way to finally break a little bit of Dean’s protective barrier than a bit of ass wiggling.

Holy crap, Sam was acting like a slut.

“Mogroth? You mean that thing from the game?” Dean scoffed and pulled out a chair, Sam listening to the man taking a seat before looking back over his shoulder and seeing him watching with a pair of unimpressed eyes. “Does looking for a monster from a nerdy board game require making a mess out of our library?”

Eyebrows raised and a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Dean was mocking him. Great, this wasn’t the reaction he was expecting, but he wasn’t going to back down. “Oh, I’m sorry I covered a fraction of the floor with important papers that might help us discover more about a new kind of monster. Really, please accept my humblest apologies for trying to do something useful, instead of lazing around all day,” he said with a straight face, before mirroring Dean’s sarcastic expression and going back to staring at papers that, evidently, had nothing about a creature called ‘mogroth’. He was quite certain that thing didn’t even exist, but researching about it was a good enough excuse to crawl around on the floor in what he really hoped was a seductive way, and that he didn’t look like a miserable puppy scrambling on all fours.

But he probably did, didn’t he?

“For your information, I’m not lazing around,” he heard Dean say, his brother using that haughty and know-it-all tone that always made him roll his eyes, and he knew, just knew that the hunter was wearing a smug grin on his face, so he refused to turn around and see it for himself. “I’m looking for cases,” Dean continued obnoxiously, “checking newspapers, even calling Cas when I remember, making sure our angel buddy hadn’t gotten himself killed yet.”

“I’m so proud of you, Dean. Honestly. Bursting with pride,” Sam derided, and this wasn’t how things were supposed to go down, but Dean always managed to bring out the worst in him.

“How about you shut your trap and keep looking for your magical beast instead, Dora?” his brother taunted him, but Sam stayed silent, wasn’t going to grace that jerk with an answer. This guy was in love with him? He acted more like a bully than someone who was all head over heels for him. Maybe Sam misread the whole thing, and Dean was actually just a sadistic big brother.

But no, that wasn’t it, because as silence fell on the library, he could feel it, slowly becoming aware of the intense pair of eyes trying to burn a hole in his body. Dean was staring at him, there was no doubt about it, and the worst was that he couldn’t be sure where he felt the other’s eyes the most—on his back or on his ass. Taking into consideration that his big brother was a healthy man, with urges and whatnot, he probably didn’t find Sam’s back as tempting as his ass, and Jesus Christ, Dean was staring at his ass, wasn’t he?

He couldn’t see his brother’s face, so he couldn’t have been sure, but he definitely felt some sort of intrusive presence on him, a penetrating stare directed right at him, and actually, Sam was kind of glad he was facing away from Dean, because even though his long hair was shielding most of his face from view, he was sure that even with that, the other would have noticed the alarming blush on his cheeks. Getting all bashful wasn’t the part of the plan either, but what was he supposed to do when he could literally feel Dean’s eyes on his ass? He wanted a reaction, but he was so fast on trying to get one that he completely forgot that one, getting Dean’s attention would obviously result in some uncomfortable situations, and two, maybe he should be looking at his brother while acting all seductive and shit. Because, yeah, maybe he was actually getting a reaction out of the man, but how the fuck was he supposed to know, if he had his back to him?

Sam had to wonder how he even got into Stanford with a faulty brain like that.

After he just couldn’t take how Dean was pretty much undressing him with his eyes, he gathered up the papers and shoved them into a folder, trying not to sulk too visibly as he dropped the papers onto the table, and especially when he saw his brother’s smug grin. “Giving up so soon? Don’t tell me you let a few complicated words defeat you, the great Sam Winchester, king of nerds.”

“Oh, shut it,” he hissed, tempted to snatch his laptop away from Dean, who was in the middle of watching some sort of old cartoon. “I couldn’t find anything on the mogroth so I stopped. But if you think you can do a better job than me, here.” He closed the laptop in front of his brother and tossed a folder on top of it instead, a little sneer stretching his lips. “Knock yourself out.”

Dean glanced at the light brown folder sitting patiently on the lid of the computer, then looked back at Sam, raising an eyebrow at him. “Nah. You see, I’m supposed to be too lazy for that. Sorry,” he said with a nonchalant shrug, before getting up from the chair and smirking at the other. “Gonna go back to my room and contemplate on my laziness now. Wish you the best of luck with being productive.”

And then he was just turning around and leaving, walking out of the room with a visible swagger, that arrogant arse. Sam would have given up right there, would have simply accepted that this plan was a total disaster, a failure, if not for the tent he’d seen in his brother’s pants when he stood up. It took him a moment to realize what he was seeing, though he thankfully didn’t start gaping or anything. His eyes merely flickered down and then back up, only caught a tiny glimpse of it, but that was enough. Sam wasn’t sure how to feel about seeing his brother get a hard-on from watching him, but he supposed it was some sort of success, in a very odd way. He tried not to think about how twisted that was, considering Dean popping a boner a success, then just stopped trying, because yeah, it was awry and just plain reprehensible. But his plan was actually working, and now that he got a taste of how fun teasing Dean was—did he seriously just think that?—he wasn’t going to stop here.

And next time he’d actually be looking at his big brother’s expressions.

 


	3. Thinning Ice

 

Jerk was a tough one to break. Tough cookie.

Sam tried, he really did. He went all out, teasing Dean all the while feigning ignorance, innocence. He stole the other’s food, leaned in and took his brother’s fork in his mouth, shooting him cocky gazes and winks to rile him up, but nothing. The man kept pretending that none of it was getting to him, when it so obviously was, it had to. Sam noticed the little jolts, the way Dean licked his lips almost longingly, the way he kept glancing his way. So he tried another approach, channeled his inner angel and began smiling at his brother more often, pleased when he saw that each flash of the dimpled smiles all but melted the man, had him returning the smiles as well, his face brightening up like the sun. Sometimes only that, the fond look on Dean’s face had him smiling without any intention to tease, but he usually snapped out of it rather quickly, trying not to get too caught up in…whatever it is he was getting distracted by.

Next, he wore his big brother’s clothes. Only some of the other’s shirts fit him, but that was more than enough. He came up with lame excuses, like his flannel was ruined or that he ran out of shirts, that Dean’s shirt was much more comfortable and “It was right next to mine, Dean, so I didn’t realize which one I had grabbed, and then I didn’t feel like taking it off”. This worked better than all his previous attempts, as whenever he wore a piece of his brother’s clothing, Dean could never keep his eyes off of him, clearly bothered and frustrated as he kept making remarks and salty comments to hide how all of it was affecting him. Sam didn’t believe a word he said, was convinced that the older hunter actually enjoyed seeing him waltz around in shirts that were too short and tight for his torso, many times catching Dean glancing at his exposed belly button.

He became a bit more daring after that, maybe a bit too much. During a hunt, they had to fight off hellhounds, and while they had the holy fire doused glasses on, the nightmare dogs were still rather difficult to kill. So much, that one of them took Sam off guard and had him sprawled on the ground in a matter of seconds, clawing at him, and then he had the very smart idea of letting it tear at his clothes a bit more. Sam actually let the dog hurt him, his protests and kicks halfhearted as he grinned inwardly, watching in wonder how quickly the creature managed to render both his shirt and pants into a tattered mess. After a while, though, he started bleeding a bit too much for his liking and stabbed the hellhound in its neck, turning the tables. The idea sounded way better in his head than in reality, he realized as they were driving back to the motel, especially when he saw that instead of fiery lust, Dean’s eyes were filled with concern and rage.

Yeah, that particular idea wasn’t a shining success, plus it left him with an aching body for several days.

The one when he went to bed in the motel room butt naked, undressing under the blanket while complaining to his brother how hot it was in there was way better, though.

“Another shot please, sweetheart,” Dean said in that alluring tone that usually had girls dropping their panties for him, even throwing in a suave smirk as he winked at the female bartender, who all but swooned and immediately went to pour him another drink.

They just finished with their latest hunt, a pair of ghosts harassing the kids of a kindergarten, and were now sitting in the town’s pub, treating themselves to drinks. Visiting bars after a good or bad hunt has become sort of a tradition down the years, and while Sam was used to seeing his brother chugging alcohol as if it was water, it having the same effect on the man too, he could never stop himself from pointing it out to the other.

“One more of that and you’ll be ordering drinks from the floor,” he mentioned with an amused smirk, then took a sip of his own drink, which was simple beer. He wasn’t that much of a drinker, especially since he couldn’t quite hold his liquor as much as Dean. Though he guessed his brother had probably lost the ability to get drunk anymore, so everyone was a lightweight drinker if compared to him.

Dean just scoffed and raised his glass in a toast, then downed the shot before turning on his stool to grin at the other. “Don’t underestimate my drinking abilities, little brother. And anyway,” he said, raising his eyebrows tauntingly as he glanced from Sam’s drink to his face, “at least I’m man enough to drink something aside from watered-down beer.”

“Since when is beer unmanly, Dean?” he asked with an amused smile, shaking his head and finishing his drink instead. Arguing with his brother when the man was tipsy, grumpy, drunk, or all of the above, usually ended with petty fights and Dean turning into a sulking kid, and since Sam was still a bit exhausted from the hunt, he didn’t quite feel like wasting his remaining energy on the other.

Or maybe he should.

Dean has been really good at holding his ground, at keeping his distance and not letting too many emotions show on his face ever since Sam began teasing him, but he was always sober. Maybe now, like this, he would actually be able to get some sort of reaction out of his brother. This was the perfect opportunity to use his questionable charms and seduction tactics on the older hunter. Sam couldn’t believe how he didn’t realize it sooner, but now that he did, the game was on. Plus maybe tonight he could be a bit more daring, could let go of his sheepishness thanks to the beer and try to actually seduce Dean for real.

With his mind relatively made up, he got another beer and drank half of it, before putting his plan into action. Sam was tipsy, he could feel it. The beers were having their effect on him, but they couldn’t get him drunk yet. His brother did not know any of that, though, so if Sam were to pretend that he was already drunk, he was pretty sure he could get away with it without Dean noticing that he was simply faking it. In other words, he would have to rely on his flawless acting skills again, hoping that the fact that he was at least half-drunk would help him play the part of the shitfaced little brother.

So without further ado, Sam waited until his brother was done eye-fucking the bartender, that giving him an idea, and then leaned in close, elbow resting on the bar as he blinked lazily at the other. “Not bad, is she?” he drawled, a drowsy smirk spreading across his face as he watched Dean, who was frowning slightly at him. “You gonna walk her home after her shift is over? Or just take her out back and fuck her against the wall?”

Obviously surprised by Sam’s sudden behavioral change, Dean’s eyes shifted to the bartender before looking back at him, just watching for a moment, then shot him a teasing, somewhat mocking look. “You’re already drunk, aren’t you? You are a worst drinker than I thought,” he said, leaning back a bit as he returned the other’s smirk. “Yeah, I think I’ll maybe take her home. Or to our motel, so maybe you should sleep in the car tonight.”

What an asshole. He was tempted to grace Dean with one of his famous bitchfaces and tell him that if he was so keen on throwing Sam out in the car for the night, then maybe he should try sleeping in the trunk first. While it was locked from the outside. But that would be something his sober version would say, and Sam was supposed to be super drunk right now, so he kept his game face on and let his smirk widen, making sure to look all groggy as he rested his head on his hand. “Why? I think I’d rather stay in the motel. Maybe watch,” he purred, glazed eyes narrowing as he slowly ran his tongue over his lips. “Or maybe join in the fun…”

He wasn’t sure if Dean noticed that he was doing it, but the man’s eyes immediately flicked down to Sam’s wet lips and, as if instinctively, his big brother was licking his own lips as well. Though he must have caught on after a second, because then he was leaning away as much as he could on a stool and chuckled, the sound seeming almost forced. “Yeah, I’m not sure if I’d be into a threesome. See, I’m not really the sharing type of guy,” he said jokingly, completely brushing the other’s attempts off. Ignoring them, as if Sam was just some stupid kid not worthy to be taken seriously.

Getting kinda pissed off, and also frustrated because why couldn’t Dean just give in already, he nearly slipped off the stool as he moved closer. He was swift about it, at least as much as a slightly drunk person could be, and had one hand on his brother’s thigh in a heartbeat, while his other hand was splayed across the bar, maintaining his balance. “I’m sure it’d be fun, though,” he whispered, leaning in so his lips were only mere inches away from Dean’s ear, soft hair probably tickling his brother’s face. “You know, I’m…pretty good in bed. Love pleasin’ my partners, touching them all over.” Sam’s voice was low and syrupy as he spoke, soft, hot breath ghosting over the other’s skin, and he drawled his mellow words even more as he added, “Love it even more when they touch me…”

He smirked against Dean’s ear as he felt the man tense up, heard his breathing quicken, but then suddenly Sam was getting pushed away. Gently, his brother grabbed his arms and eased him away, before getting off the stool, his whole posture stiff and smile thin as he helped Sam off the elevated chair as well. “Come on, let’s go back to the motel. You’re way too drunk,” he said coaxingly, tugging Sam toward the exit while the younger hunter just blinked incredulously.

Did Dean just ignore him, again?

His mind felt all fuzzy, and he was pretty sure that the beer did somehow manage to get to his head, because he was feeling all warm and weird and definitely not just tipsy anymore. He barely protested as he was led to the car and put in the backseat, just grumbled silently all the way back to the motel, sometimes reminding Dean that he shouldn’t even be driving. That stupid jerk. Sam was doing so well, his teasing words were totally working, so why? Why couldn’t Dean just give in and…

And what?

What exactly was that Sam wanted to see? Some sort of reaction, yes, but there weren’t that many ways one could react to teasing aside from snapping and claiming the object of their desire. Was that what he wanted? Did he want to drive his brother mad with lust and then let the man make him his? Did he want…Dean to fuck him?

Sam groaned. He was getting a headache and he was drunk, so thinking about complicated things like whether he secretly wished to engage in gay incest with his big brother or not wasn’t something he was really capable of right now. He’d just worry about them when he didn’t feel like the leather seats could swallow him up any second and when the world around him stopped swaying like he was stuck in a damned washing machine.

Yeah, that sounded good.

 


	4. Trial And Error

 

Sam was having a dilemma.

After he and Dean came back from the bar, and after he had a good night’s sleep, his sober brain didn’t let him relax for too long before it attacked him with around a million questions. He did not feel like getting to the bottom of any of them, mainly because most of them were about his hidden intentions, and Sam really wasn’t in the mood to self-reflect. So he avoided thinking about the whole thing, stopped teasing Dean, who thankfully never brought up that night at the bar, and everything went back to normal.

Then Sam woke up with come in his underwear after having a dream about Dean, and had to come to the realization that he wasn’t going to be able to forget about this that easily.

Apparently, somewhere along the line, Sam’s plan changed without him noticing. All this time, he wanted to get a reaction out of his brother, but he never stopped to think long enough to figure out just what he wanted exactly. Did he want Dean to get a boner? No, because he already succeeded with that but it wasn’t enough. Then did he perhaps want the man to finally lose his cool, to shatter his self-control, to let go and act on his impulses? Maybe. Well, probably. Or most certainly.

Great. So that practically meant that Sam was annoyed because his own big brother had good self-restraint and wasn’t pouncing on him like a famished animal on a juicy steak, that Dean was actually holding back so as to not ruin their relationship and possibly scar Sam. He was being considerate, would rather suffer for years rather than touch his little brother, and while Sam appreciated that, he really, truly did, it was starting to piss him off. And it was showing.

“What’s that face for?” Dean asked with a slight scowl as he took another bite of his homemade burger, apparently not minding as unidentifiable fluids oozed out from between the buns and dripped onto his plate with a faint plop. A clean eater, as always.

Sam was spacing out, has been for around ten minutes—or was it half an hour?—now, his own cold burger sitting untouched on the plate before him. He wasn’t feeling hungry, was way too distracted by his frustration toward Dean’s self-restraint, and didn’t even realize he had a permanent frown of his own etched onto his face, probably looking like someone who bit into a lemon while simultaneously experiencing a bout of nasty diarrhea; and when he snapped out of his reverie, he couldn’t quite control his sour tone as he said, “I’m not making a face. But even if was, it’s none of your concern.”

Somewhat taken aback, Dean raised his eyebrows and lowered the sauce-drenched burger. “Whoa, princess. Is it that time of the month already?” he taunted cheekily, licking his plump lips with a jeering glint in his forest green eyes, the mocking remark along with those unconsciously teasing ways his brother did things only riling Sam up more.

It was all wrong, unfair, because Dean was the one who was supposed to be losing it here, not Sam. “Why don’t you shut up and stuff your face with that burger instead?” he huffed, shooting a small glare at his puzzled, but visibly amused brother, before glancing down at his own food and pushing the plate away with a silent sigh. Things weren’t going according to plan. Hell, nothing was. Sometimes he wondered if maybe this was a sign, some greater force somehow sabotaging his plan and indirectly telling him that it was a very bad idea and that he should stop this foolishness, but he was already converted. Basically in it to win it, Sam refused to back down, even now that he knew that his intentions weren’t as innocent as he initially thought.

He needed Dean to snap already, but he had already done everything one could possibly think of. He had seduced his brother, got close to him, gave him openings, but still nothing. All that was left, the only option Sam could come up with was to just corner the man and kiss him, but that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen either, because he was not going to take the initiative. Yes, it was pathetic, but he was scared of taking the first step, even though that would’ve been so much easier than trying to force it out of his very obstinate big brother. But there had to be another, more discreet way, right? Something that didn’t involve inappropriate touching or throwing Dean’s uncovered secret right in his face, calling him out on his bullshit. Anything that didn’t hold the possibility of failing, of getting himself rejected or laughed at.

Sam thought and thought, sulking in his chair with his arms folded, sneaking glances at his brother who, taking him up on his previous not-too-kind suggestion, had gone back to munching on his burger, licking and sucking at his dirty fingers and successfully driving the younger man crazy. God, what kind of torture was this? He seriously needed to retaliate, to come up with something quick, or else the sexual tension was going to end up killing him. But what? What was he supposed to do?

Five more minutes of silent eating from Dean’s part, and impatient pondering from Sam’s, and then he simply couldn’t take it anymore. So, with a sphinx-like look on his face, he sat up straight in his chair, and stared right at his brother while trying to sound totally casual as he forced the words out of his mouth. “By the way, I’m gay,” he stated matter-of-factly, his flawless poker-face wavering just for a second as Dean’s eyes shot up to gape at him, the man making a sound that suggested he was about to choke on the piece of food he was previously chewing.

Satisfied by the reaction, Sam leaned back in his chair, all nonchalant while never letting the mischievous smile cross his face, kept an unperturbed expression as he continued speaking like he was just discussing the weather. “Yeah, so I was thinking that maybe I’ll go out tonight, hook up with some guy. You know, to try it out. So I doubt I’ll be back tonight, might stay in a motel and get him to fuck me—”

“What?!” Dean exclaimed after he was done choking and had swallowed the food down, his face a whole whirlpool of emotions, of shocked disbelief and bewilderment, of anger. “What? Are you serious…? Wait.” He blinked, watching Sam with incredulous eyes and with his brow furrowed in bafflement. “Since when? That’s…that makes no sense, no. You’re just joking, right?”

Stifling his grin was so hard, but he still managed to keep a straight face as he raised an eyebrow at his brother. “No, Dean, I’m perfectly serious,” he said with a shrug. “I wasn’t that much into girls to begin with, but wasn’t sure until now why. Well, now I know. And I can’t wait to find out how it feels like… Bet it’s good.”

Dean looked like he was about to have a mental breakdown. “But…” he began, then just shook his head and glowered at Sam. “Why are you telling me this? And you can’t be seriously thinking about going out there and…and letting the first guy who finds you fuckable bend you over!”

Oh, there we go. His brother was finally showing his teeth. “Why not?” Sam finally let a smile stretch his lips, and it wasn’t a nice one either, but condescending and challenging. He leaned his elbows on the table, pretending to be offended. “It’s none of your business what I do or want to do. I never say a thing when you pick up random chicks whenever we go out hunting, respect your privacy and your decisions, so I’d appreciate it if you did the same. So if I want to go out and let a stranger do me in the ass, then that’s exactly what I’m gonna do,” he hissed, and just to add fuel to the fire, added, “And you can’t stop me.”

Seconds trickled by in silence, stretched into a minute as they just kept staring at each other, then suddenly Dean was standing up from his chair and walking around the table, and even though Sam tried to remain calm, his heart had upped the tempo and was hammering in his chest. His legs barely worked as he also got to his feet, all but jumping out of his own chair to level a weak glare at his brother, who marched over to him, only stopping when they were mere inches apart.

“Yes, I can. Because I’m your brother,” he growled fiercely, chest heaving in built-up rage and whole body tense, the man restive with nerves paper-thin and ready snap any second, “and I won’t let you do something as stupid as let some nobody use you as their sex toy.” He took a step forward and Sam took one back, inwardly cursing when he realized all that did was help Dean trap him against the table, then swallowed thickly and gripped the edge of the polished wood behind him when his brother took a hold of his shirt.

“What, Dean?” he managed to purr without his voice wavering, without sounding too desperate. “Does it bother you this much? You can go around and fuck whatever that moves, but as soon as I want to do something daring, it’s suddenly a taboo?” Sam ran his tongue along his lips, eyes never leaving Dean’s dark and hypnotic ones, glowing with a black and corrupt hunger, his brother resembling a tiger that could go for his throat any moment, and in a way, the slight fear that look made him experience also excited him.

Dean’s grip on his shirt tightened, fingers curling aggressively in the fabric and pulling on it as his eyes narrowed. “Sure, you can do whatever you want. But not with a stranger, not with someone who’d just take advantage of you,” he stated sternly, as if scolding Sam, who could feel the other’s warm breath on his skin, they were so close now, and breathing normally became a difficult task all of a sudden. “So, Sammy,” Dean continued, voice dropping an octave and sending a thrilled shiver down the other’s spine, “if you want a cock up your ass that bad, you’ll just have to take mine.”

Sam’s chest practically exploded with excitement, with an overwhelming feeling of victory, and he barely had time to flash his brother a smug grin before he was being hauled into a harsh kiss. Okay, that was expectable. Kissing was bound to happen sooner or later, and Sam didn’t have any issues with it being sooner; but then he was getting shoved back and onto the table, faintly registering the sound of something clattering to the floor but was too busy trying not to choke on Dean’s tongue to really mind. And while he was mentally prepared for the consequences of his teasing, Sam, once again, forgot to consider what pushing someone over the edge really meant—so when he felt his shirt getting torn open by firm, greedy hands, he kind of freaked out.

“Dean, wait—” he said as a feeble attempt to protest as soon as he wasn’t drowning in his big brother’s mouth anymore, but then was cut off by his own gasp, back arching helplessly as Dean’s lips traveled down his chest, leaving a trail of possessive kisses behind.

“Should’ve done this sooner,” his brother mouthed the words against his skin, glancing up at Sam as he bit his stomach. “If I would’ve known you were that hungry for a dick, I would have given you mine ages ago. Stuffed your ass so full with it, Sammy, so fuckin’ full.”

“Oh God,” Sam whined. He was not prepared for the dirty talking, things were getting out of hand, and holy crap, Dean was nibbling on one of his nipples and he couldn’t help but moan for more. He was in an awkward position, upper body lying on the table and completely bent backwards, while his feet were still on the floor, legs spread with Dean standing between them while performing his assault on Sam’s sensitive nipple. A warm tongue was flicking and swirling around it, lapping at the hardened flesh with abandon, then when he began suckling on it hard, the younger man couldn’t help but throw his head back and buck his hips hopelessly, body shaken by a sudden spasm of pleasure.

After moving to the other nipple and exacting the same kind of sweet, eager torture on it, Dean licked a wet stripe up the other’s throat before biting down on his chin. “That’s right. So needy for it already, aren’t you? Can’t take it, want something in there, but don’t worry,” he purred lowly, a predatory smirk creeping onto his face when Sam blinked up at him dazedly, glossy lips parted as he took in deep, quick breaths. “I’ll take good care of that insatiable ass of yours, you little slut.”

Sam felt like his insides were going to melt, they _were_ melting, and he couldn’t stop the small whimper that forced its way out of his mouth as Dean fumbled with his pants, tugging them down hurriedly and with such force that each sharp yank dragged him closer to his brother, body sliding further down the table until he could feel the uncomfortable edge of it digging into the small of his back. He decided to stand then, pushing himself away from the table and instead leaning against it around the same moment Dean knelt down to rid him of his boxers as well, Sam helping by stepping out of them, then feeling his whole face flush, heat spreading across him as he looked down and saw his brother outright staring at his dick, before flashing a lecherous grin at him. “What’s this? Already so fuckin’ hard for it?” He wrapped his fingers around Sam’s half-hard cock, the digits an unyielding shackle around his length, and gave it a purposeful squeeze. “Tell me, Sammy. Have you been fantasizing about getting fucked for a while now? About taking a big and fat, juicy cock in there? Anyone would do, wouldn’t it? I mean just now, you were so eager to let the first faggot that’d get his small prick wet from your hungry ass fuck you.”

“Shut up,” Sam hissed, the order more like a plea. His cheeks were burning in embarrassment, in humiliation. He never thought Dean would be a gentle person, especially when pushed to his very limit, but all those words shamelessly pouring out of his brother’s mouth surprised even him, however also, to his demise, turned him on.

And Dean noticed, must have felt as his little brother’s dick hardened even more in his hand, because his grin widened into something outrageously smug, and he leaned in, luscious lips hovering before the head, so close but still so far, and Sam could hardly control the urge to just grab the other by his hair and fuck his dirty mouth.

“Oh, but I’m right, ain’t I?” Dean drawled with a honeyed voice, thick and syrupy with lust, and as if reading the other’s mind, he moved his free hand to Sam’s hip to hold him in place while his tongue snaked out of his mouth and poked the smooth, hot skin of the head, making the younger man’s breath hitch. “Want something in there to keep you full so bad you wouldn’t even give a shit if it was some ugly-ass reject who got his slimy hands on you, shove his stick-like little dick in that empty hole. But that wouldn’t be good enough. No, you need something big, something that’d tear you apart in the best way possible.” He chuckled low in his throat, the sound deep and dark, and twisted his wrist as he slowly dragged his hand up Sam’s cock, then back down. “You need me.”

Sam was suddenly spun around, a wretched whimper escaping him as the hand disappeared from around his cock and he was shoved against the table, then gasped when the aforementioned hand, joined by another one, spread his cheeks. He shivered, fingers curling as he leaned forward, the cold air against his hole making him close his eyes. Never has he felt so exposed, so intimately naked as Dean dug his fingertips in the flesh of his cheeks, pulling them apart as much as he could before, without any warning whatsoever, licking Sam’s hole with the flat of his tongue.

Jolting slightly, his knees weakening, he tried to glance back over his shoulder, but another lick had his head falling forward and ripping a lewd moan from him. “Dean, that’s…fuck,” he groaned, silken strands of hair making their way around his face, shielding it like a soft curtain and swaying when Sam’s head dipped lower, keening quietly because the tongue had found its way in his ass. It was wiggling and nudging, curving, pressing further into him, and when he both felt and heard Dean moaning with his tongue nested deep within Sam’s hole, his arms gave in and he collapsed onto his elbows, hips pushing out wantonly, beseechingly. He was burning up, breathy sounds leaving him as the wet, so warm flesh lapped at his sensitive, puckering hole, his brother’s tongue molded to fit in his ass, squeezed by it, each rub and lick sending shockwaves of pleasure through him, so intense it had his dick twitching in need.

Soon, though, the amazing tongue was gone, Sam’s feeling of loss short-lived as a wet finger very soon replaced it. This was different, not as delicate and easy to get inside, and it wasn’t long before he was burying his face in his forearms, making somewhat wounded but debaucherous whimpers as the forceful digit dragged the skin of his hole whenever it pulled out, or prodded against his insides when it pushed back in. “There you go. Nice and docile like a good puppy, now that you’ve got a finger up your ass,” Dean said in a desirous, somewhat mocking tone, the smirk audible in his voice as he hooked the finger and dug his nail in Sam’s tender inside, while reaching out with his free hand to grab a hold of the other’s hair, tugging on it. “Why don’t you whine like the pretty bitch pup you are? Beg for my cock, because that’s the only one you’ll ever get. Hear me, Sammy?” He growled, giving a sharp yank to Sam’s hair and pulling him up so his lips were brushing against his little brother’s ear as he whispered, “You’re mine, my fucking birthright, and you’re not gonna let anyone else screw you aside from me.”

He then gave Sam a push, shoving him back to bend over the table, before withdrawing his finger, but only for a second, as in the next there were two of the wet digits sliding inside the other. Emitting a tiny whine, like his big brother told him, Sam tried to calm his breathing, since he was very close to panting like a dog now, but that proved to be quite a challenge with Dean finger fucking him like there was no tomorrow. So instead, he just moaned, then his hips jerked abruptly when a fingertip brushed against his prostate. “Dean! Jesus, Dean, there please. More, please just touch me there, please…!” he all but wailed, the words punched out of him with another press of his brother’s fingers against that incredible spot.

A nasty chill ran down his spine as he heard Dean’s smug snort behind him. “Touch you? Is that all you want?” he asked with a rough jab of his fingers, to what Sam let out a loud, high-pitched moan. “No, that’s not it. Just my fingers won’t be enough for such a greedy whore. You need more, and you’re gonna get it…if you ask nicely.”

“You—” he snarled, face completely overheating now, but then another thrust of the digits had him mewling softly, and Sam spread his legs a bit more, giving up on even trying to seem like he didn’t want his big brother to fuck him six ways from Sunday. “Yes, I need it,” he said quietly, obscene desperation dripping from his voice. “Need you, your cock in me. Dean, please, fuck me already; just make me yours, you fuckin’ tease!”

“Impatient much?” his brother sneered, and that’s it, Sam growled and pushed himself away from the table, wobbling a bit as he turned around and shivering when Dean’s fingers slipped out of him.

“Yeah, well it’s your fault. I ain’t the one who was drooling over their brother for the past few years,” he reproached with narrowed eyes, a saucy grin curling his lips as he gripped his own cock and gave it a few slow, long strokes all the while watching a slightly surprised Dean.

“What are you talking about?” the man asked, feigning confusion as he licked his lips, his eyes filled with want never leaving the other’s throbbing erection while his was straining stubbornly against his pants.

Sam scoffed. “You know exactly what I mean. You’ve got the hots me, you own brother. You sick pervert,” he said with that same grin on his face, however his features softened when he saw the brief look of enraged panic on the other’s face. “But that’s fine. I love you too, so…we can be freaks together.”

Seeing a genuine smile on Dean’s face was a change he welcomed, and when his brother crushed their lips together for a passionate kiss, it wasn’t fierce or brutal—it was loving, hot and perfect. “Love you too, little bro,” he mumbled against Sam’s lips before pecking it, then took a step back and gave the other a thorough once-over, the younger man squirming a bit under his brother’s ravenous gaze. “So,” he said after a while, meeting Sam’s eyes, “want me to be gentle instead?”

It was clear that Dean wasn’t in the mood for love making right now, but great news, Sam wasn’t either. So he shook his head and went back to his previous position, bending over the table with his ass pushed out invitingly, looking back over his shoulder before wiggling it a bit. “Keep goin’, Dean. Right now, I want you to fuck me into this table and make me scream like…” He bit down on his bottom lip, batting his eyelashes as he flashed a coy smile his brother’s way. “Like the little, needy bitch I am.”

“Holy fuck, Sammy,” his brother groaned, swiftly stepping up behind him and placing a hand on his back, pushing him further down while stroking his ass. “Yeah, gonna make this hole mine, mark it with my come.” Sam moaned at those words, then did so louder when Dean spit into his palm to slick his cock up before pressing the head against the other’s entrance. “Relax, baby boy. Don’t wanna make you bleed. Though, with my size…” Dean chuckled, and it didn’t sound friendly. “I think you’ll end up splitting in half anyway.”

“Fuck, Dean…just hurry up,” Sam whined, arching his back and gritting his teeth, bracing himself for that imminent pain, which came after a moment, and no matter how hard he clenched his jaw, he couldn’t stop the miserable cry that feeling tore from his throat. Because staying true to Sam’s request, Dean wasn’t the least bit gentle, and freaking shoved his cock right in, slamming his hips forward with short thrusts to force his thick length deeper and deeper in. “O-Oh my…god. Ow,” he whimpered, trembling when felt Dean’s dick twitch inside him as the man laughed.

“Shit, Sam, you’re tight.” He moved both hands to the other’s hips, rolling his own and groaning. “Told you I’m big, baby. And now be a good boy and take it all,” he purred hoarsely, voice a bit breathy from the sheer amount of lust he must have been feeling, and then Dean was sliding in and out of him, Sam’s body tensing as his ass burned, hole stuffed full and aching, stretched open too suddenly.

He mewled lightly, then much more lewdly, nails scraping at the wooden surface as sweat prickled his skin, the cold air against his naked and searing body making him shiver over and over again. Eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open, sweat-soaked strands of hair sticking to his forehead and the nape of his neck, Sam tried not to collapse onto the floor, since his legs were getting weaker by the minute and his elbows were hurting. Unable to take it for much longer, he stretched across the table instead, chest sticking to the wood as he raised his ass further up in the air, this position apparently much better for fucking, as in the next second Dean nailed his prostate, drawing a high-pitched scream from Sam. His eyes immediately flew open and then he couldn’t stop keening, lascivious mewls and pathetic whimpers leaving him as his body got rocked with each thrust, moving even the table at particularly violent slams. He tried to push back, to meet his brother’s hips and move in time with him, but he could barely control his own body, so he gave up on that idea after a while and just let Dean fuck him silly.

Warm balls slapped against his skin while an even warmer and rock-hard cock was impaling him again and again, pounding his ass, and while Sam was a loud one, his big brother wasn’t silent either, curses just rolling out of his mouth. “Damn, Sammy,” Dean half-groaned, half-growled the husky words out as he shoved deeper into him, as if trying force his cock all the way up to the other’s stomach. “Swallowin’ me right up, fuck yes. Loving this, aren’t you? C’mon.” He reached out and took a hold of Sam’s hair, the younger man’s scalp hurting with a piercing pain as his brother tugged so hard he was sure some of his hair was going to stay in Dean’s hand. “Say it. Tell me how good getting fucked feels like.”

Eyes watering from the sting in his scalp and the merciless thrusts, plus his neck was starting to hurt as well in this horribly uncomfortable position, Sam needed to take a few ragged, shuddering inhales before obliging. “Y-Yeah Dean, love it,” he whined, voice stretched thin and weak with his head pulled so far back, but he still tried to talk between whimpery moans. “Feelin’ so complete with your cock lodged in me, so deep, yes, please! More, more, want more, fuck me more, Dean—” Sam cried out, interrupting his little plea with a needy sound as he felt his brother’s hand on his own bouncing, pulsing cock, fingers enclosing around the hot flesh and beginning to pump it wildly, and Sam was pretty sure he was going to faint, because it all felt too good.

“That’s right Sammy, that’s a good fucking boy,” Dean praised him while screwing his brains out, and Sam just clawed pitifully at the table, the fingers in his hair and around his leaking cock addicting, the pleasure so overwhelming he didn’t even realize how he had stuck his tongue out while panting, little whimpers and breathy moans escaping him and making him seem like a true puppy in heat.

Tongue still lolling after a long while, Sam nearly bit down on it when his brother increased the already ruthless speed of both his thrusts and strokes, and then he was crying out again, this time because his orgasm just hit him like a goddamn bull. It ripped through him, tore him apart and left him in pieces, Sam screaming through his orgasm and then probably blacking out, because all of a sudden he was on the table again, panting like he was about to spit his lungs out, and then shivering like crazy when he felt Dean’s come filling him in hard, even bursts. Fucked-out and feeling all high in the clouds, he just hummed contently when his brother kissed his back, leaving open-mouthed kisses all over the sweaty skin before nipping at his shoulder.

“Lick it clean, puppy,” he heard Dean say, only realizing what the other was talking about when he cracked his eyes open and noticed a palm inches away from his face. And it was covered with come.

He made a small protesting sound, but when his brother just wiggled his hand temptingly in front of Sam’s face, he rolled his eyes halfheartedly and strained his neck as he leaned forward, poking his tongue out before lapping up the come presented to him. It tasted odd, salty-sweet, had cooled down while Sam hesitated, and licking and swallowing it down was just plain weird, and also pretty twisted, but he got a kiss on the cheek in return, so he didn’t mind.

Dean hugged him from behind, did something that was very close to cuddling as he nuzzled the back of the other’s head, then whispered, “Just so you know, this was the best sex I ever had.”

Sam snorted. “Nice compliment,” he said with a small smile, leaning into every one of Dean’s touches. “Better than you’ve imagined?”

“Much,” Dean purred and licked the other’s ear. “Hey, how long…”

“Have I known that you liked me more than what’s socially accepted?”

“Yeah.”

His smile turned a bit shy and he shifted in his position, sucking in a sharp breath when Dean’s dick slipped out of him, leaving him empty and craving again, but he ignored that for now and wrapped his arms around his big brother’s neck instead. “Only a few weeks, actually,” he confessed, giving the other a more bashful version of the puppy eyes. “And at first I was a bit…well, I don’t know. Confused, I guess. But then after a while I got annoyed that you weren’t touching me and decided to take some drastic measures to get you to claim me already.”

Dean blinked at him, then raised his eyebrows. “So all this time you weren’t just an oblivious little tease? And you weren’t serious about this whole gay and getting fucked by a stranger thing either?”

Shaking his head, Sam smirked. “Nope. I was a sneaky tease,” he said, narrowing his eyes when his brother scoffed, “and I was lying about wanting someone else in my ass. I’d rather get eaten alive by a hellhound than let some stranger grope me.”

“Well, you nearly did, once. Got your clothes all torn up and…” Dean paused, then shot a suspicious look at the other. “Don’t tell me that was on purpose.”

He shrugged, as if to say ‘oops’. “Yeah, that one didn’t really turn out well.”

“Didn’t turn out well? Sam, you could’ve died,” his brother snapped and—just as Sam opened his mouth to justify his actions—grabbed his thighs, pushing and lifting until he was sitting on the table, and even though he was kind of sulking, he still wrapped his legs around Dean’s waist almost instantly. “You idiot. Don’t ever do something so risky and stupid again. Next time if you want something, just tell me instead of using self-mutilation as a subtle hint.”

“Getting hurt that much wasn’t part of the plan,” he mumbled with downcast eyes. “And it’s not like I could’ve just walked up to you and said ‘I know you love me, and I do too, so let’s fuck’…”

Dean thought for a while before kissing Sam’s nose. His goddamn nose. Sam was not blushing like a virgin, no. “I don’t know. I think that could’ve worked,” he said with a lopsided smirk, then went in for another kiss, this time aiming for the other’s mouth.

Sam reflexively opened his mouth and let his brother lick into it, their tongues sliding alongside each other, lips moving sensually in a deep kiss until they both ran out of air and had to part, though none of them went too far, staying as close as possible without actually latching onto each other. “I think this way worked out pretty well too,” Sam pointed out after a while, mirroring Dean’s smile when the man’s lips stretched happily.

“Yeah, I can’t argue with that,” he said with a wink, then leaned close to his little brother’s ear and licked it. “So, what do you say we go for round two? In the bedroom.”

He licked his lips eagerly, ass still sore but dick giving an interested twitch at the idea. “Sounds good,” he drawled while lavishing Dean’s chin with puppy licks, blinking up at him. “But this time let’s try gentle, ‘kay? My ass hurts.”

His brother laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world. “Whatever you want, Sammy. I’ll cherish and worship you, or use your body as a fucktoy. They all sound like a lot of fun.”

“You’re weird,” he said with a laugh of his own, before kissing Dean’s lips. “And I love it.”

And yeah, this whole brother fucking was more than weird as well, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered as long as they were happy, which they were, so what they did behind locked doors was none of anyone’s business.

 


End file.
